So what do suburban Parisians, especially young ones, do when they're not wandering awe-struck among the most famous monuments and art in the world? Actually, many of them rarely get downtown, as our suburban friends tell us. Central Paris is where travelers like us go to wander awe-struck.
So what else is there to do if you're an actual Parisian? How about hanging out at the mall?
We wandered off to get a few things for dinner and check out the local mall, as diligent reporters are expected to do on behalf of the readership. And…it looks pretty much like you'd expect, but in French. And I guess that alone adds a sort of cachet (French, again) to the experience. It's a well-known fact of travel that when you don't fully understand your surroundings, can't read much of it and really don't know what's going on – that's when it qualifies as exotic. Even if it's just a mall.
As you might expect (or not), Homer Simpson is alive and well in French malls. There are flowers galore to freshen the dinner table. And, since it's getting into late Summer, there are sales in almost every clothing store. How many ways can you spell Sale, and in how many languages?
No mall is complete without a huge food store, here known as Carrefour, with a massive cheese selection and yelling fishmongers. There are creative mannequins in the windows.
And the staring mug of "Whatsisname" is plastered everywhere. Glad to know the French have the 'mall thing' under control.
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It's another day and we're heading for the Metro and a quick ride into Paris. But we pass an open marketplace that popped up overnight in a parking lot. Annick, our host, tells us later it's an 'Arab market.'
There was an African-Arab mix, and it reminded us of the colorful souks of Morocco. Carolyn waded in, and I followed with camera in hand. When the experience offers itself, you grasp it. It's why we rarely stick to a tight schedule.
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Soon we're on the Metro and we surface on a leafy street near the massive old hospital and war veterans home, Les Invalides.
We're in search of the Musee Rodin and walk entirely around the imposing building to reach it. We're greeted by a light pole decorated with old entry stickers left by school children and other groups. I hope Rodin would approve.
Around the grounds there's much to ponder (OK, bad joke), as Rodin was one of the most prolific and talented artists ever. I read that Picasso once said, 'After Rodin, what's left for the rest of us to do?' (Note to Pablo: Don't worry. You'll think of something.)
We took time for a quick lunch, and lunch at a museum (almost any museum) is usually a treat. We decided to skip the wine this time and enjoy that later. We had a long day ahead of us.
There's something special, almost regal, about being allowed to wander at will through beautiful grounds and to study, close-up, sculptures you've seen only in books – and so many others you haven't even heard of. Rodin produced so much work of such high quality that they almost appear as throw-offs…as if he had a few minutes to spare so he might as well do something else spectacular.
Some visitors found shady spots for afternoon naps. That's what old people do, I guess.
After wandering the grounds for several hours, we went inside to see his smaller stuff. Groups of students were writing critical reviews. I can't imagine a better place to be an art student – where the artist actually lived, seeing his works up front, as large as life. And the incredible view that sold Rodin on living here.
But it was time to leave. We promised Annick we'd be back in time for dinner at a place she knew, a 'typical French place,' far from the tourists. We headed across the Pont Alexandre, where we found a 'glacier,' an ice cream maker, from a venerable family. Then a drummer using pots and pans to, uh, drum up some business.
And there was a Danish bicycle club riding through the city, flying their famous colors (said to be the world's oldest: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flag_of_Denmark), ready for the arrival of the Tour de France. Did we mention the Tour de France would arrive in a day or two?
(I swear, that womann on the left is wearing Perry's T-shirt! — Carolyn)
We got to the Metro and headed for dinner at a fine place where local people go for their favorite food and accordion music. A long freight train rumbled by just a few yards away to add more local character. And a gorgeous moon rose as the evening came to a close – another unexpected pleasure for two wandering souls. — PRW
There is one more blog coming about Paris — soon!